Thursday, Feb. 24, 2005 | 10:19 a.m.



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Still More Coolness

Real Estate People - Bleh

Yesterday morning at about 11 I had a phone call from our property management company, which I think actually consists of one person. Last month we had issues with them surrounding the stolen checkbook and automatic payment -- as in, they had received the rent payment from the new account, but not from the old one, and it threw her. She called here accusing us of not paying rent and demanding some ridiculous amount of money. We checked the bank account, saw that the automatic payment had gone out on schedule -- and been cashed! -- and called her right back. She backed down, but didn't bother to apologize for her shoddy bookkeeping. So when I saw her name on the caller ID, I wasn't looking forward to a pleasant conversation.

"Hello?"

"Monica? This is J, from Blankety-Blank Property Management Company. They're going to hock the farm!"

As if I'm supposed to be excited about the fact that she used such a lame euphemism to tell me the owner is selling the house we're renting. She hurried on before I had a chance to respond.

"So I need to give your phone number to the appraiser so she can come by. Okay? Bye!"

Click.

I sat here for a minute, stunned. We had thought about buying this place, but things have happened recently to make us reconsider, so that's not really on the table. So now we get to move again? Ugh!

Last night at about 6, the appraiser called. She wanted to come by this morning. WTF? I said, "Look, the house really isn't in shape to be appraised right now -- I need to clean it-"

She cut me off. What the hell is it with rude women in real estate? "It doesn't matter. I have to be out in Mesa tomorrow for another appointment and it would be convenient."

Convenient for who? Sure as hell not me! She was pushy and as a reward, got to see the everyday clutter of the Van Steenberg house. I know it wasn't really as bad as all that, but I hate to have someone like an appraiser show up with twelve hours notice, especially when the house isn't ours.

So Jeff calls this morning and finds out "hock the farm" apparently means refinance. So they're not selling, but what a pain in our ass. The good thing is, we went over our lease with a fine-toothed comb last night and know that next time, we will be getting a 48 hour notice before someone shows up. It's in the lease. Hmph.

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